Only She Can Help
by rentaholic00
Summary: Mark gets ubersick and only Mo can help. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - **Another one written during school math sub boredom…and at home…. review, please!!!

Chapter One

Mark woke with a strange pain in his chest. When he tried to cough, the sharp pain stung his entire upper body. "That's weird," Mark said out loud to himself. "Maybe it's just a gas bubble or something," he reassured himself.

The filmmaker hoped beyond all measure that he wasn't sick. If he were, he would have to be isolated from almost his entire family. At that time, Joanne was on a business trip for the law firm, so wanted, maternal help from her was unavailable. Angel, Collins, Roger, and Mimi were obviously out of the picture. Benny wouldn't give a shit about Mark's health conditions, or any condition for that matter, so there was only one left.

Maureen.

The thought scared the hell out of Mark. The last time Joanne had gotten sick, Maureen had tried giving her help. Mark and Roger never got the details. But the strong, independent lawyer had fled the apartment she shared with the drama queen and ran to the loft to escape Maureen's 'helpful' clutches.

Before he could dwell anymore on the terrifying subject of being under Maureen's care, Mark decided to see if he really was sick. The small blonde rolled out of bed and onto the floor with a loud thud. "Oops…hope no one heard that…" Mark said to no one. He crawled over to the phone and called the loft two floors below.

"Hello?" The cheerful tone of Angel's bell-like voice consoled Mark a little bit.

"Hey, Ang, can I talk to Collins?" Mark managed to choke out. His voice surprised him, as it was hoarse and scratchy.

"Sure, honey, hang on. Collins! Mark's on the phone!"

"Coming, just a second!" The deep, husky voice hollered back.

"Hey, Mark, what's up?"

"I think I'm sick…could you possibly specify, or try to anyway, what I might have?"

"Sure, what are your issues?" He laughed a little. "Besides the obvious ones, of course."

Mark stifled a laugh. "Running nose, I have a cough, my voice, duh, and my chest hurts like a mother."

"Ooh…you should get that checked out. Do you need money?" Collins asked, sounding deeply concerned.

Mark hesitated. He _hated _asking people for money, especially his friends. But he was dirt broke, and needed it. Sighing, he said, "Yeah, that would be really helpful. If you could just come up and slide it under the door that would be perfect. I don't need you or anyone else getting sick. I have enough to worry about as it is." Mark's hidden parental side was kicking in.

"Alright, I'll be right up." Collins hung up the phone.

Mark put the receiver on the base of the telephone, grabbed three blankets and a comforter and shuffled over to the couch. He wrapped himself as tight as he could manage, considering he had no help mummifying himself. It was then that he realized that Roger wasn't there. Mark searched his brain for where he might have gone.

-flashback-

the night before

Mark was in the shower, humming to himself. Roger was out in the main room, fiddling with his guitar strings.

"I'm writing one great song before I…" Roger angrily put the ancient instrument on the metal table. He could never get the last note of that cord right.

"MARK!! I'M GOING DOWN TO MIMI'S!! I'LL BE BACK IN THE MORNING!" Roger strained his voice so that Mark would be able to hear him over the running water and the filmmaker's off-key humming to Musetta's Waltz.

"KAY!! SEE YOU TOMORROW!!" Mark hollered back, and the sliding door slammed behind the musician.

-end flashback-

Mark shut his eyes, not bothering to take off his rectangular, black framed glasses. A few seconds later, he heard a knock on the door, and, opening his eyes, saw a pink envelope slide under the door. Clearly a touch of Angel.

"Thanks, Col!" Mark yelled as loud as his hoarse voice could handle. He heard the professor's retreating footsteps stop.

"Oh, and keep Rog out. Make him stay with Meems or the two of you." Mark would make such a great dad…what with all the nagging.

"Sure thing, I'll see you later." Collins headed down the stairs.

Mark glanced at the telephone across the room. He reluctantly released himself from his death wrap on the old, ducht-taped sofa, dragged his tired, achy body across the room to the chrome table. He unenthusiastically picked up the headpiece of the old phone and dialed Maureen's number.

Author's Note- Reviews!!! I want to know what your guys want from this!!! How you want the story to turn. I've started chapter dos, and I wanted to make this about 5 or 6 chapters long, so let me know! Chapter Two should be up either later tonight or tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Disclaimer-Don't own it…tear…oh and could someone leave me an email or tell me in a review what OC, R&R, and AU are?? I'm clueless…I know

"JOANNE?!" Maureen missed Joanne, no matter how much she had been denying it.

"No, it's Mark. I need you to do me a favor, Mo." Maureen sighed and twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "What's up, baby?" The drama queen asked, clearly irritated.

"Listen, um…Mo, I think I'm getting sick."

"Okay, what do you want me to do about that?" Maureen replied icily. She was going to make him beg.

"Uh…well, Jo is out of town, well, duh, you knew that; Benny doesn't give a shit, and Collins, Angel, Rog, and Mimi are completely out of the picture. I need you to come and hang out at the loft for a few days nd help me out. Please?" Mark was whining, proving that Maureen's plan had worked.

She smiled devilishly. "Sure, I'll pack a few things and be over in a few." The smile fell from her face. Maureen didn't know how to take care of someone, she thought, as she remembered Joanne's last sick occasion. The diva grimaced. She could get through this.

Mark had sounded kind of urgent, so Maureen packed as quickly as she could, not even really looking at the things she was throwing into the small suitcase. When she was done, she ran into the main room. Grabbing a pen and a notepad, she scribbled a note.

_Jo, _

_Mark got sick and I'm in charge of taking care of him. DO NOT WORRY. I am just there to help him get along and do some stuff. I love you forever._

_Mo_

_xoxoxoxoxoxox_

Maureen only wrote the note as a precaution, in case Joanne got home and Maureen wasn't there. Because Jo would flip.

The drama queen grabbed her bag and her white jacket, leaving the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

**A/N** - short chapter I know, I'll make it up to you as soon as Mo gets to the loft…I promise.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N – OnTheLineFeline- you rock my socks…and no, I'm not killing Mark…He's my favorite! Along with Angel, that is.

Chapter Three

Maureen, being as absent-minded as she was at the moment, forgot to get off of the subway. She ended up at the next to last stop, almost in Jersey, before she realized it. "Crap! Now I need to get back…I hope Marky's doing alright…" Maureen dug in her pockets, her purse, and even in her shoes for a subway token. She found one, much to her surprise, in her red stiletto, borrowed from Angel. The drama queen got on the car going the opposite way. Twenty minutes later, she was walking down Avenue A and climbing the stairs to Mark's loft.

Not bothering to knock, Maureen let herself into the room. "Damn, it's cold!!" Were the first words out of her mouth. "Mark! Marky, where are you? MARK!!" The last word was hollered using the infamous wench scream that Maureen was always getting teased about. She heard a groan from somewhere in ducht tape land, aka the couches. Maureen walked over, glanced around and let out a tiny scream of shock.

Mark, too dead asleep at the time to notice, had rolled off the sofa onto the floor. He was bundled in the four layers of fabric, but was still freezing cold. Mark was always cold and getting teased all the time because of it. Maureen had yelped because the image of the paler than normal filmmaker curled in a ball on the floor, shivering, was too much for her to handle.

"Oh my god, Marky, are you alright?" Maureen was concerned, genuinely worried about someone other than herself. "That's a first," Mark thought to himself.

Maureen gently helped Mark get untangled from the blankets and get some warmer clothing on. The blonde realized at that moment that he was wearing nothing but boxers. As usual, he blushed, causing his blonde eyebrows to stand out, at the thought of Maureen seeing him half naked.

When he was settled on the couch with three of Roger's sweatshirts on, along with two pairs of sweatshirts, Maureen got him something warm to drink. Mark couldn't taste it, his nose was too stuffy.

"Marky, do you want to go see a doctor?" The drama queen asked in a fairly pleasant tone.

"Yeah."

Maureen got off the sofa and pulled Mark off the floor. She ran to the coat hanger next to the door and grabbed that stupid blue and white scarf that Mark loved so much. When he got to the door, Maureen lovingly wrapped the scarf around his thin neck.

On the way to the nearest medical center, Maureen asked Mark how he had gotten sick. At first, he couldn't think of any reasons why he would have caught something. Then he remembered.

"Roger had gone to Mimi's…and I was in the shower. After I was finished, I got dressed and went up on the roof, not thinking to dry my hair. That must be what got me sick. While I was up there, though, I was thinking. About my past, my childhood and adolescence. How I was constantly getting teased and made fun of…because I liked photography and I didn't follow the crowd. About my future. I thought about all the things I could have done with my life, and came to one conclusion. I wanted to live with all you losers for the rest of my life." The two shared a laugh. " I also thought about this." Mark moved in towards Maureen and put his hand on her cheek. He positioned his face just right and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

Maureen returned the kiss instantly, but a second later her lips went cold, hard and dead. "I…I can't…Jo…I promised…I can't mess up this time." Mark looked her in the eyes and saw that Maureen had tears in her eyes. She quickly blinked them away when she saw the blonde looking at her.

"I know, I wasn't asking for anything from it, just that I had been thinking. Dammit…I probably just gave you what ever I have." Mark slapped himself on the forehead.

"Don't worry Mark, I'm immune to everything," She reassured him. "Well, here we are, Avenue J Medical Clinic," said Maureen as she read the sign above the door. She opened the door and held it open for Mark. He entered the tiny, warm room, sweetly smiling at her the entire time.


	4. Chapter 4

b A/N – Story ends here. Hope you liked!!! R&R, please! Many thanks to the wonderful, beautiful Shannon Alavi for letting me steal her name. /b 

Chapter Four 

Maureen walked up to the counter and wrote Mark's name on the waiting list. She put her hand on the middle of his back and led him to the hard, uncomfortable looking chairs that were lining the border of the room. There were only two other people in the waiting area. One was a scruffy looking older man who looked as if he hadn't showered in a week. The other was a young girl of about seventeen, and she looked nervous for some reason.

In the strange helpful mood she was in, Maureen went and sat next to the girl, dragging Mark with her. When she the girl looked up, the diva noticed that her eyes were red and puffy, as if from too much crying. She examined Maureen with a look on her face as if to say, "Who the hell are you and why do you care about my problems?" The drama queen started to speak as the frightened teenager and Mark stared at her in shock.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? You look like you're been crying. Are you alright?" The girl was looking at Maureen like she was a lunatic.

"Nothing," Was her quick reply.

"Sarah Rosenburg? The doctor will see you now," A kindly looking older black woman held the door into the hallway open. The young blonde perked up at the sound of what was obviously her name. Giving Maureen and Mark a spiteful, questioning look, she stood and followed the nurse back into the office.

"That was really weird…" Maureen muttered to herself. She saw something on her shoe and started scratching at the red leather, not noticing that Mark's eyes were squinched shut and he was wincing in pain.

"Are you doin' okay, Marky?" She asked as she rubbed his back. He shook his head no. "What hurts, then?"

"My chest…it hurts real bad, Reeny." _Shit, how could I let that slip?_ Reeny was the nickname that Mark had made up for Maureen when they were still dating. He bit his lip…what would she say?

"Oh, Mark, you're gonna be okay, sweetie, I promise." Mark let out a huge sigh of relief. She had overlooked his slip. Maureen leaned over and kissed him on the cheek with sisterly affection.

The same nurse came out of the office just then and called Mark's name. He and Maureen rose and followed the older woman through the whitewashed door and down the hallway. The diva slipped her hand into Mark's and gave it an encouraging squeeze. The small blonde looked down at her and smiled.

When they reached the room, the nurse gestured for them to enter. The walls of the small box were also whitewashed.

"The doctor will be in in a moment," The nurse said grumpily.

"Thank you ever so much, my dear woman," Maureen said with mock sincerity. When the nurse rolled her eyes and finally left, Mark studied the room, wishing he had his camera.

After five minutes of unusual quiet, considering Maureen was in the room, the doctor came swooshing into the room. She was wearing a pastel pink business suit under her clean-cut, white coat. Her long, auburn hair was up in a ponytail. She was studying the piece of paper on her light blue clipboard as she entered.

"Mark Cohen?"

"That's me," Mark replied, raising a hand off of his lap.

"And who are you?" The doctor kindly directed the question at Maureen, who was sitting in a green chair in the corner of the room. She was probably thinking that she and Mark were together.

"I'm Maureen. We're just friends."

Mark sighed. _Always thinking of herself…_ He thought.

"And what seems to be the problem, Mr. Cohen?"

"Please, call me Mark."

"Alright then, Mark, what seems to be the problem?" The doctor sweetly repeated.

Another sigh escaped from his lips. "My chest hurts really badly," Mark admitted. He hated being the one who had to be taken care of, not being able to take care of himself.

"Alright, let me check this out. By the way, my name is Dr. Alavi." And with that, she began her examination of the filmmaker.

Maureen watched the scene before her intently, and, as she did, a wave of emotion washed over her. She, irresponsible, irrational, crazy Maureen Johnson, had taken care of someone without killing him or her. Pride now washed the wave of emotion from a few moments ago. Her red lips turned upwards slightly. She could do this.


	5. Chapter 5

****

Author's Note – When I was writing the end, I kinda realized that I had made a dumb blonde mistake…hence the surprise at the finish.

Disclaimer – DUH! And I don't own Long's Drugs

Chapter Five 

After the examination, the pretty doctor folded her hands in front of her face.

"Mr. Coh-... Mark. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you have contracted pneumonia."

Maureen let out a little gasp and her hand flew to her mouth in an attempt to quiet it. Mark looked over at the drama queen, then back to the doctor. "Is it serious?"

"No, but it needs to be taken care of immediately, otherwise it could get very serious."

Mark nodded in agreement.

"Alright, I'm going to call in a prescription for you. It will be at the Long's Drugs around the corner. Do you have money to pay for it?"

The blonde nodded and slipped his hand into the jacket pocket that held the pink envelope.

The doctor nodded as well, pulled a cell phone out of her pocket, dialed a number, and began to mutter into the phone. Seconds later, she turned around to face Mark and Maureen.

"Okay, Mark, your medicine will be at the store in an hour. Do you have any questions?"

Maureen spoke up. "I do."

Dr. Alavi pivoted on her heel to look at the drama queen. "Yes?"

"That girl…what was her name, Marky? Oh yeah, Sarah, the blonde one. When we walked in, she was crying and I thought that I recognized her from somewhere, so I asked her what was wrong. At first she ignored me, then she said that nothing was the matter. I was um…. I was wondering if you could tell me what she was here for."

_God, Mo, be _nosier_ next time, alright?_ Mark said to himself.

Dr. Alavi shook her head, the auburn ponytail following its lead. "I'm sorry, but the information about our patients is kept strictly confidential."

Maureen nodded, obviously dissatisfied. "Alright, I understand."

Just then, Mark began to cough, wincing as he did.

"We should go…thank you so much for your help," Maureen said as she took Mark's hand and led him out the door, rubbing his back as she did.

"You okay, Marky?" A look of actual concern covered her face.

He waited until he stopped coughing so that he would be able to tell the truth. "Yeah."

"Okay, I'm gonna get you back to the loft, drop you off there, and then steal Angel for the night to walk with me to the drugstore cause I'm not really in the mood to be raped tonight…or any night for that matter." She smiled.

"Mo, seriously, come on…I can walk with you…"

She looked at him disapprovingly. "You can't be serious, Mark. You have _pneumonia_. I'm taking you home. No questions."

Mark raised his arms in surrender. "Fine, fine, you win."

"Yay!"

--

When they got back to the loft, Maureen tucked Mark into his bed so tightly that he couldn't move.

"Mo…" He groaned. "I can't move…"

Maureen giggled and clapped her hands like an excited four year old. "Good!"

The blonde stifled a sigh, giving up once again.

"Okay, Marky, I changed my mind." Mark's pale face lit up, thinking that Maureen would let him go with her. "I'm leaving Angel here to baby sit you. I'm taking Collins to the drugstore with me. Ang should be here in a few, she was getting dressed." Collins joined them in the bedroom. "Collins and I will be back in about an hour, kay?" She put her hand on the side of his face lovingly.

Mark nodded, disappointed that he wasn't allowed to go.

--

When Angel came up, she hollered, "MARK?!"

The filmmaker's eyes fluttered open, the blonde eyelashes brushing his cheeks. His face twisted into a scowl. He had just been woken up. And unless someone wanted his or her head bitten off by Mark, no one woke him up. Ever.

He dismissed it, though, seeing as Angel hadn't known that he was asleep. "In here, Ang," Mark called out as loud as his hoarse, scratchy voice would allow.

Angel bounced into the room, wearing a neon yellow mini skirt, neon orange tights, and a tight fitting neon pink top. Her signature black wig and black Go-Go boots topped off the ensemble. Just looking at her brightened Mark's mood.

_She has a way of doing that…just walking into a room and lifting the atmosphere,_ Mark thought to himself.

"Hey, baby, how ya feelin'?

"Like shit," Mark flatly replied.

"Aww…you'll be okay, honey…don't worry."

Mark noticed that Angel was keeping her distance from him. Then he realized…

"Shit, Angel, you can't be here…I'll get you sick! You need to leave!!! No! I can't get you sick!!! No! No! No! NO!"

--

Mark felt someone grab his shoulder and shake him. His eyes jerked open, the bright afternoon sun harshly reacting with his eyes.

"Holy mother! Mark, are you okay? You were screaming in your sleep…tossing, turning, the whole shebang."

Mark couldn't comprehend at first what the voice had told him. "Bu…you…and…Mo…Ang…Joa…I wa-…I had pneumo-…WHA…?

"Wow, dude, that musta been one helluva dream you had yourself there." Roger began to laugh.

"Yeah…one helluva dream…"

THE END

Finally, the end!!! review!! love? hate? tell me!!! 


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